Page 59 of Anarchy

Footsteps approach as they walk through the glass littering the concrete. We both groan in pain as my vision darkens. I reach for him, “Ss-p-ade,” I rasp as a gun goes off, sending everything into darkness.

Chapter 35

Breast Milk & Notes

Jade

All day I’ve had this feeling in my gut that something is fucking wrong. I just don’t know what it is. I keep checking on the kids, but they are all tucked in bed, fast asleep. Spade texted me a little while ago, letting me know they were going to be late tonight. He’s lucky I even answered him because Jameson has been blowing up my phone with bullshit I don’t want to fucking see and all it’s doing is grating on my damn nerves. I want to go up to the club in the worst way possible and kick his fucking ass, but I know he’s taunting me, and I refuse to let him win, but something is telling me to fucking go.

Just as I remove the suction cups from my nipples, Zayn walks into the living room, stopping in his tracks with a bowl of what looks like cereal in his hands. He swallows thickly as his eyes dart to my naked chest. I pour the milk into the bags, sealing them closed before putting my hand out for him to take. Clearing my throat, his eyes finally meet mine, stepping further into the room.

“Can you label them with today's date and put them in the deep freezer with the rest of them?” I ask, and he nods. This man has barely said anything to me since the day he killed Monty and I fucking hate it. I roll my eyes because I know it pisses him off for whatever reason, and he raises a brow.

“Oh, and don’t be stealing my milk, asshole. I know it’s been you,” I accuse as he opens a bag and pours the contents into his cereal bowl with a smirk, then spins, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen.

As I tuck my sore boobs into my bra, my phone chimes. Picking it up, I see yet another video from Jamie. I swear he’s really pushing my motherfucking buttons. Pressing play, I see him sitting in a wing-back chair with his eyes completely void while a girl with long curly black hair sucks his dick. I’ve gotten videos like this all day, including ones of him killing other girls and they all resemble me. Just as I place my phone down, another message comes through.

Caveman:

How many more girls have to die tonight to get your attention?

Me:

Fuck you! Don’t place blame on me because of your actions.

Caveman:

Wrong, Queen of Death. Everything you touch dies. Everything you love dies. I’m only doling out the consequences of your actions.

Me:

Because you’re the Ol’ Mighty God of Punishments. Get fucked. Stop texting me.

Caveman:

Come on, Little Creature. Drown the kids and come play with your master. It was so much fun doing it to Spade.

What in the actual fuck? He drowned Spade? What? What the fuck am I missing?

Me:

See you soon, ollphéist.

Getting up from the couch, I go to the dining room and dig through the basket of folded clothes, looking for a tank top and black skirt. Finding a black one, I change out of my t-shirt and leggings, getting dressed. Walking over to the door, I grab my holster, put it on, press the code to the safe in the closet and take my pistols out, shoving them in the holster. A throat clears behind me, and I roll my eyes.

“And where the fuck are you going?” he asks as I turn to look at him.

“Enthralled to put the monster down once and for all,” I answer, dismissing him as I reach for the doorknob, but he grabs my arm, spinning me around, pressing me against the wood.

“No, you're not. Take that ass somewhere else. You are not to leave this house alone,” he bellows as I shove him away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Zayn, move. I’m going whether you like it or not. Who's the fucking boss? Not you. Now stand the fuck down,” I argue, but he presses his body up against me. His lips are a feather away from mine.

“Not alone,” he growls so hard I can feel the rumble in his chest vibrating against my hard nipples. My mouth goes dry as a chill races up my spine at his proximity.I still don’t understand why he has such an effect on me. Even after all these months, I want him to touch me. Just one fucking time.I gasp as his hands run up my ribs, gently around the curve of my breast and up to my neck.

Taking my hands, I slide them under his shirt and drag my nails up his torso, finding his nipples pierced. Flicking them, he hisses; only bringing him closer to me. Licking my lips, my tongue grazes his bottom lip, causing his eyes to burst with need. “Jade!” he growls, but doesn’t take a step back, like I thought he would. I lick my lips again, only this time I drag my tongue across his, causing his hand to wrap around my throat as the other cups my breast, rolling his thumb over my hard but sensitive nipple. I moan, digging my nails into his ribs and down his stomach as I grip his belt, as he slowly tortures me with nipple play. He grips my neck tighter, forcing me to look up at him. “You know we can’t do this, but yet, you’re pushing me to snap and I don’t know how much longer I can resist,” he whispers as I unbuckle his belt.

“Then snap, Zayn. Touch me,” I say, and he growls,

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